Rose in Paradise
by MissyDee
Summary: A one shot about what can happen when someone loves you a little too much for their own good... based on the Waylon Jennings song... AH/OOC/AU.


**This plagued me for months. The song Rose in Paradise by Waylon Jennings (later covered by Chris Young and Willie Nelson) was playing and I thought to myself that it would make an excellent one shot. I just couldn't figure out how to tell the story. **

**Well, I figured it out and here it is. It's told a little differently than my normal storytelling style. **

**This story hits on a bit of unintentional emotional abuse. I think it happens more than we know, and a lot of women (and men) let it happen without realizing that's what's going on. I know I've been a giver and receiver, but I don't see it when it's happening. Anywho, I'm putting the lyrics before the story so you get an idea of what we could potentially be getting into. **

_~ Rose in Paradise ~_

_She was a flower for the takin', her beauty cut just like a knife... _

_He was a banker from Macon; he swore he'd love her all his life..._

_He bought her a mansion on the mountain, with a formal garden and a lot a land..._

_But paradise became her prison, that Georgia banker was a jealous man!_

_Every time he'd talk about her, you could see the fire in his eyes... _

_He'd say, "I would walk through Hell on Sunday, to keep my Rose in Paradise..."_

_He hired a man to tend the garden, and keep an eye on her while he was gone…_

_Some say they ran away together... Some say that gardener left alone..._

_Now the banker is an old man...that mansion's crumbling down..._

_He sits all day and he stares at the garden...not a trace of her was ever found..._

_Now there's a rose out in the garden... its beauty cuts just like a knife..._

_They say that it even grows in the winter time... and blooms in the dead of the night..._

**x.X.x.X.x.X.x**

There is such a thing as being loved too much. I would've never thought it was true, but I was a victim of that very crime.

I was sixteen when I met him. He was a bit older than me, at twenty-one it was taboo for us to be together, but my parents adored him and allowed us to date. We had rules of course, all of our dates were chaperoned, a lot of the time he would come to my house and have dinner with my family. My parents trusted us, and he loved and respected me enough to know I wanted to wait for marriage before having sex.

At seventeen and a half Eric asked me to be his wife. He'd gone to my father and to ask for my hand, which was unexpected in this day and age, but so was a man that never pushed for anything more than a few stolen kisses.

A month after my eighteenth birthday I became Mrs. Eric Northman, a title I was proud to carry. My husband was a teller at the local bank and working his way up the ladder. When we got married all we could afford was a small one bedroom apartment on the wrong side of the tracks, but it was home. Our very first place together as husband and wife. I loved it; I went to school during the day while he worked and since I got home about two hours before him I would always have dinner ready and waiting on the table. I didn't know how to do a lot, but I learned as I went along.

Friday night was date night. Eric always made sure we went out somewhere even if it was to have a picnic dinner at the park around the corner. The week was for work or school, homework and housework. The weekends we spent with either my family or his, or sometimes our friends. Friday night was solely for us. That's something I always loved and admired about my husband. He always made me a priority and I know too many men take their wives for granted.

Our first years were in a word amazing, not to say our later years weren't. Eric stayed true and loved me with an almost terrifying amount of passion. The way he watched me when he didn't think I was looking always made my heart skip a beat. The intensity of our love making brought me to tears on many occasions. He was always so tender with me. You see my Eric was a big man in every aspect and he was terrified he would hurt me so he always took his time in the bedroom, or the living room, or the kitchen, or anywhere else we happened to be when the mood struck.

Five years into our marriage Eric came home with a brilliant smile on his face. I loved his smile, it brought out a boyish charm that only I really got to see on a regular basis during that time. He'd been working so hard at the bank trying to move up so we could have a better life. We'd discovered I was pregnant right around our one year anniversary and I'd miscarried. Some things went wrong and by the time the whole ordeal was over I was no longer able to have children. My husband promised me right then and there that he would do everything in his power to make sure I never felt that kind of pain again. So his mission was to make his Rose happy for the rest of her days no matter what. My name is Susannah Rose, the name I go by is Sookie, but every now and then Eric called me his Rose. I bloomed like a rose on a sunny spring day anytime I was happy according to him.

Anyway, he had news. He'd gotten the promotion he was hoping for. At twenty-eight he was a branch manager. He would be working a little more, but he would be bringing home enough money to get us out of the "shit hole" we called home. He wanted to buy me a house on a hill he said, one that overlooked the valley. He wanted me to have a huge garden, the white picket fence and the whole nine. We would never have children to spoil, so Eric would spoil me.

It was my twenty-fifth birthday when Eric told me he had a present for me that would be hard to top. He begged me to take the day off of work – I was a teacher's aide for a first grade class at the time – that year it fell on a Friday. My husband made me breakfast in bed. I was impressed seeing as Eric had no idea how to cook. I'd done all the cooking our entire marriage and that morning he surprised me with a bacon and cheese scramble. He'd attempted an omelet and had a little mishap on the flip. After breakfast we took a long shower together, which we didn't have a chance to do very often given how much he worked. We still had our Friday date nights, but anytime in the week was pretty much obsolete.

"I'm going to blind fold you when we're almost there, okay?" he told me when we got on the freeway heading east.

"That's a little kinky isn't it?" I giggled as I reached over to hold his hand.

"Ah, are you saying you wouldn't like it?" his smile was a little devilish, but it was my husband and I loved him no matter what.

"Oh, I would love it," I purred and brought his hand up so I could kiss his palm. Since Eric and I started so young we liked to have a lot of fun in the bedroom. I loved that even after seven years married we still turned each other on so much.

"Time for the blind fold, my love," he said quietly as he reached into the center console to retrieve the black silk scarf.

He watched me as I tied it on while we sat at a stoplight in the middle of the day on a Friday. There were no other cars around and I noticed the landscape was very lush and green. I'd been too wrapped up in the conversation to pay attention to where we'd been driving. The rest of the drive was slow, but fairly short. I could tell we drove most of it on gravel. I waited patiently as Eric walked around the car to help me out.

"Are you ready?" he asked me, resting his hands on my shoulders from behind me.

"I've been ready!"

He untied the blind fold and let it fall to the ground revealing a gorgeous yellow two story house with dark blue shutters and bright red door. There was a wraparound porch with a lovely white swing and a huge, lush green yard. I could see a stone path along the side that lead down to what looked like a beautiful garden full of various flowers. The whole house was surrounded by giant red wood trees. I'd never seen anything so beautiful and perfect.

"Where are we?" I asked him.

"Home," was his simple reply.

"What do you mean home?" I questioned, truly confused.

"This is how all of those long hours paid off, those hours that you never once complained about, my beautiful girl. You've taken care of me and in turn I am fulfilling my promise to give you everything you ever desired."

"Oh, I love it; I love you," I cried as I wrapped my arms around his neck, tears were streaming down my face.

"I would walk through Hell on Sunday to keep my Rose in Paradise," he whispered into my ear before pulling back and giving me a look that made my blood run cold. That should've been the first warning sign that something was off with my husband.

We moved into the house a month later. Eric wanted to paint all the rooms and make a few changes before we moved in. Six months later the next sign showed itself. I wrote it off as my husband being concerned me and wanting me to be safe, but as I reflect I can see something else was brewing that night. I got stuck at work waiting with one of my students for her mother to show up. Due to that little hiccup I got stuck in traffic on the way home and arrived about five minutes after Eric.

"What happened? Why are you so late?" he asked as he opened my car door for me.

"Ah... I got stuck with Lisa Fowler, her mother was running late and then I traffic hit." The new house was in a different town than my school so the commute was hell.

"You should've called, I was so worried," he told me and wrapped me in a tight hug. I hugged him back and when I tried to let go he just held tighter. So tight it almost hurt.

Eventually he pulled back from me and when he looked me in the eye I saw it again. I saw the look he gave me the day he revealed the house to me. Something in his eyes, in his demeanor was wrong. It frightened me, but it happened so rarely I didn't think twice. I trusted this man and loved this man above all others.

Two weeks after that it happened again, the reaction I got was eerily similar. The one thing different was the resulting argument. Eric didn't like me driving at night. He told me that day that if something ever happened to me he wouldn't be able to live with himself for letting me be out alone after dark. I'll admit I found that odd. I knew he didn't like it, but he never told me he was worried something would happen to me. My car was safe; I kept up on the maintenance so I couldn't have imagined something would go wrong with it.

The argument came about when Eric politely asked me to quit my job.

"But I love my job," I told him, clearly confused by his request.

"I know," he admitted, that fiery look was still in his eyes. "I love you more than you love that fucking job though. I don't want my wife out all hours of the goddamn night because she's babysitting someone else's kid." Eric rarely raised his voice, so I was a bit taken aback.

"Eric, where is this coming from?"

"Please, Sookie, my darling Rose," he said in a calmer voice, stroking the side of my face. "I worry; I need to know that you're safe."

I got that bit; it just took me completely by surprise. I would've done anything for my husband, just as he did for me. I had a problem with quitting my job though. We fought for weeks about it. It only compounded the issue when I started getting stuck with Lisa more and more often. Finally I promised that I would only finish out the school year to which he agreed with what seemed to be a great relief.

The next time I saw that look was one day several months later when we were in the mall, shopping for Christmas gifts for our families. I needed a shirt in a size that wasn't on display so I asked one of the clerks. When he came out with the large that I needed I thanked him with a gracious smile as I always did. Eric kept quiet until we were driving home.

"Sookie, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course," I smiled at him and reached over for his hand.

"Am I enough for you?" he asked me and I'll admit I was shocked.

"What do you mean are you enough? Why would you ever ask that? I love you Eric, I've loved you for ten years. You're the only man I could ever love," I admitted truthfully.

"I saw the way that kid looked at you in the store. I didn't like it, Sookie, I didn't like it one bit." He paused then and the air in the car was tense, thick, I could taste it. I was honestly scared of my husband in that moment. He'd always told me I was the prettiest girl around, that he was a lucky S.O.B. for allowing him to love me. I could see the storm brewing behind his eyes. I don't know what he thought he witnessed, but it was simply a boy doing his job.

"Honey, are you okay?" I queried. I didn't like the fact that he'd started speeding up and the roads were slick from the recent rain.

Just as quickly as his scary mood set in, it receded and he slowed down. Right about the time I noticed his breathing calm he pulled to the side of the road. He unclicked both of our seatbelts and pulled me across the console so I was straddling his lap.

"I don't know," he said, looking up into my eyes. "I can't describe it, Sook. I've never felt like that before. Something almost snapped when I saw you with that guy."

"Oh Eric," I breathed and cupped his beautiful face in my hands before I kissed him hard. "It will always only be you."

"I love you so much, my Rose." Not for the first time, Eric and I made love right there in the front seat of his car.

Things seemed to calm down after that and another two years passed. I'd been a homemaker, and I truly loved taking care of my husband and my home. However, Eric thought I was doing too much. He knew how much I enjoyed our flower garden and with the basic upkeep of a home the size of ours I was unable to tend the garden, therefore it became overrun with weeds and unruly rose bushes.

Eric still kept long hours, save for our Friday date nights. One Tuesday he surprised me though. He came home at lunch time with a man. A large man in a plaid shirt. He introduced him as Alcide Herveaux. Eric hired him to clean up my flower garden so I could enjoy it without having to spend hours clearing it out only to be too tired to enjoy the fruits of my labor.

I smiled to myself when I overheard him telling Mr. Herveaux the very thing he told me the day he showed me the house. "I don't know if you have a wife Mr. Herveaux, but that woman in there is my world; my darling Rose and I would walk through Hell on Sunday to keep my Rose in paradise. So I'm asking that you take care of this garden as I take care of her."

The gardener simply nodded and set to work, walking around and getting the lay of the land. I didn't miss the look in Eric's eyes though, he had that same fire that he had anytime he spoke of me or anytime he was worried about me.

Within a month my garden was back to how it started. The stone path was free and clear of any weeds coming through the cracks. My flowers were beginning to bloom and I'd started spending my free time relaxing on the swing Eric had placed out there. I loved it, I loved it even more when Eric would come home and sit with me late into the night, telling me about his day.

We kept Mr. Herveaux on and he would visit once a week on Tuesday to work on the yard. After some months we became friends of sorts. I realized all of the friends Eric and I had in the beginning of our marriage seemed to taper off so I spent a lot of time alone. Each Tuesday when Mr. Herveaux would arrive we would have coffee on the front porch and talk about our weeks. Mine was usually pretty boring, consisting only of the new things I did to house and I would tell him all about my date nights with Eric – leaving out all of the private details of course. Mr. Herveaux would then tell me about his wife and their two children – both boys. I'll admit that sometimes I would get a little jealous since I was unable to have kids of my own. Eric once offered to adopt, but I could never wrap my head around it.

One Tuesday morning Eric came home just as Mr. Herveaux was walking off of the porch. He kindly greeted Mr. Herveaux as he gave me what I'd come to know as _The Look. _He was livid; I knew right then that Eric thought something was going on between the gardener and me. His jealousy was the beginning of quite a few arguments, most not notable, but I could see that storm brewing in his eyes again. It terrified me; there was something different about it.

We sat on the porch in silence until Mr. Herveaux left and then he quietly got up and walked into the house, I followed right behind him. I didn't want to argue, but I knew it was coming. He was going to accuse, I would deny, eventually it would all blow over and we'd probably get a new gardener.

How wrong I was.

Eric didn't say a word until we were in the bedroom where he flew into a blind rage. He ripped the blankets and sheets off of the neatly made bed and then proceeded to throw everything in our bedroom to the opposite side of the room, never once looking at me. I wanted to stop him, but for once I had no idea how to calm him. If I told him nothing was going on he would automatically assume I was lying. Eric loved me, that fact I never once doubted. Everything Eric did was for me, to give me the life he thought I deserved. I knew that, I still know that.

Eric and I never had a chance to argue that day; one of the flying objects – I never got to see what it was – hit me in the temple. That was the last thing I remembered until I found myself looking down upon a scene that both terrified me and broke my heart.

Eric was crying over my lifeless body, rocking me and begging me to wake up. In his fury he didn't notice me standing in the room. As it turned out I was hit in the temple by a small stone jewelry box that sat on the dresser. It killed me instantly.

He buried me in the garden, under my favorite rose bush. I was by his side when he called Mr. Herveaux and told him his services were no longer needed and I continued to be at his side when he sat on the bench next to that bush and talked to me. Eric never remarried; he never even looked at another woman. Each day he would go to work and stay long into the evening. When he came home he would go directly to the garden until he could no longer keep his eyes open and quietly make his way into the house. He never slept in our old bedroom again either.

I watched as our once beautiful home became a dilapidated, decaying mess. He barely took care of himself, let alone the house he worked so hard to give me. My heart broke every night for my husband as he watched the roses bloom. He didn't deserve to be in the state he was in simply for loving me too much.

So now I wait.

What happened to me was a terrible, unfortunate accident. I wait patiently for my husband to join me so we can once again be together. I wait to be in the paradise he once promised me.

**~end~**

**There we have it. Let me know what you thought. **


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